After That Day: A Jounouchi Fic
by Blue Lagoon Loon
Summary: In that moment… that our eyes met… I felt like I would never see them again. -COMPLETE-


**_After That Day: A Jounouchi Fic_**

**_Summary: "In that moment… that our eyes met… I felt like I would never see them again."_**

**_AN: Blah, feeling melancholy, writers block, and the pressure of the last moments of college life bogging me down in depression. What better way to alleviate it than to do a free write?_**

**_Warnings: …I dunno, abandonment issues? Teary eyed sadness for childrens and sensitive peoples like me? Hate for parents who leave their children behind? That and more baby!_**

**_Rating: T for… Totally whack._**

* * *

"SHIZUKA!!!!" the small boy yelled, his boyish voice squeaking from having to supply air not only to yelling, but to his lungs, which were beginning to hurt from his running. He ran as fast as his scrawny legs would allow, even though they burned as if acid were eating the tissue, and the muscles tensed and tightened with the exertion of his sprinting. "Wait! WAIT!"

* * *

_I suppose even then, I felt the world's lies and false promises catching up, but it seems as though the veil never lifts until the last second._

_To torture and punish me._

_I was by no means a model human being even then, but I knew that this was a far crueler punishment than what awaited any other crimes in the future._

* * *

The boy huffed, and tried as hard as he could to catch up, but it was fruitless. The car was far better equipped to not only outpace him, but outdistance him. This was proven when he met the eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror. The car sped up not a second later, as the boy was left in the dust.

"WAIT!!!!"

* * *

_I knew even then, abandonment was something that no human being can endure. To feel so utterly worthless, because you're unwanted. Cast aside._

_Unnecessary._

_It was because of that, that I knew that in that in that moment, that one moment where our eyes met, that she was leaving me behind because she wanted to. That was probably the worst thing that could happen to me, because I felt in that one moment…_

* * *

"PLEASE!!!" the boy suddenly tripped, skidding on the pavement, skinning his palms and his knees. He ignored the pain, as he wearily got up and hobbled after the rapidly disappearing car.

* * *

_…I felt like I would never see them again._

* * *

"…" the boy watched the now empty road, ignoring the sting of the rocks and dirt in his scraped palms and bleeding skinned knees. He felt a light breeze and the light drizzle from the sky on his skin, but the message of the oncoming rain was something that he ignored in favor for watching the empty road. He blinked and sniffled, rubbing the hot tears from his eyes, chewing his lower lip nervously. He began to shiver from the dropping temperature.

He continued to watch, perhaps believing that maybe, they would return. When the light patters of rainfall came, and the streetlights began to turn on, the boy resigned himself to giving up for the day, and walked back to his dwelling.

* * *

_That I would never see her again…_

* * *

It was the second week, and the boy watched the road carefully, making note of who came and who didn't. Though the news broadcasted flooding, and reports flew of the torrents affecting water levels in rivers and streams, the boy ignored this and watched the road. His brief reprieves in his watches were only for sustenance, bathroom breaks, and, occasionally, hide from his father. Luckily, the old man was currently out, doing who knows what, but the boy didn't mind. He continued to watch, taking into account the people that would drop by to his neighbors house, perhaps dropping off something. Or even seeing the mailman go inside of the building to lug in parcels.

And the rain fell.

* * *

It was the second month. The rain ended, but the boy still watched the road on occasion. He received a letter from his sister, a stilted correspondence which didn't say much, except that she missed him. He wrote her back, saying the same, unable to say more, and afraid to ask the questions which were buzzing around his head since that day.

He did not dare write to the other. He was too afraid of what would be said. Too afraid…

And possibly, too sure.

* * *

It was the fourth month. He received something.

It came as a return. A return of a gift for his sister that he had sent for her birthday. The parcel's red Sharpie 'Return to Sender' which was pressed hard onto the white cardboard mailing box that he bought at the post office, clearly stated the intent. He could make out the indentation of the marker, where the writer had pushed the felt tip into the cardboard, seemingly scarring the parcel with the soft writing tip.

The boy tenderly opened the box, pulling out the gift.

The gift, mounted in a handmade wooden frame, lovingly crafted by the hands of the boy, was a photograph.(1) Depicted, was the boy, his sister, father, and the one who returned the parcel. The boy chewed his lip nervously, looking at the picture for a few moments, before he turned back to the parcel. He had enclosed a card and a letter with the gift, which he saw

The door opened abruptly, as father was home. He made eye contact with the boy, and they stared. It seemed like hours, before father looked down at the boy's hands. He looked for about a minute, before walking quietly to the boy. He gently took the picture frame from his small hands, and pushed the boy gently towards his room.

The boy peered out from his small room ten minutes later, to see father looking at the picture in the hand made frame. He watched, as the minutes seemed to lug by, as father quietly studied the photo and its contents. Suddenly, father quietly pulled the photo from the frame, and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a pair of shears from a drawer, cut out a hole from the photo, and threw the cut portion into the garbage. He then replaced the photo into the frame, put the photo back into the parcel box that was left on the kitchen table, and turned to the refrigerator to start supper.

It wasn't until later, that the boy went to see what father cut out. He saw that father was gone from the picture.

* * *

The next day, father, who fixed the parcel with new tape, and added new postage, told the boy to take the package to the post office on the way home from school. Afraid of the hurt feelings he would feel of another returned package, but not wanting to argue with him, he did so.

The package was not returned.

* * *

A year passed. The boy was quickly becoming more and more despondent. Father, though understanding, was caught up in his own depression, that he failed to keep track of the boy when he really needed it. The boy became more sullen and jaded, and began to lash out at others, growing into a generally angry person.

* * *

It was the third year, and the boy began to run with a bad crowd. Though he was among others, he felt more and more lonely, as his views on the world diminished further and further.

Father, who had become severely depressed, wanted nothing more than to forget.

* * *

Miles away, sister was lonely. Due to a disease which diminished her eyesight, she had a hard time making friends, since many could not understand, and due to her isolation because of her failing eyesight. In the years she spent away from her brother, she felt more and more alone, as she watched the world turn from bright and colorful, to a diminishing gray. The constant headaches, watery eyes, and tunnel vision didn't help things along, though she was thankful for every day of sight still available to see and appreciate the letters she got from her brother. In her own way, she was also depressed, and kept herself occupied with writing as legibly as she could.

While she still could write.

* * *

It seemed like so long ago, but it was in actuality, six years since that day. The boy, no longer the skinny weak small thing he once was, grew into a hardened, deeply hurt, but outwardly sadistic and cruel creature, with no direction in the world. It was almost the equivalent of watching a once beautiful stream become polluted and wasted, as the boy became something that he knew deep down, that he wasn't. Left alone, fending for himself most of the time, it was difficult to imagine this once responsible boy, who would guide and shelter his sibling, became engrossed in the world of petty theft and gang activity.

Father was a seemingly hopeless case, as he became entrenched in the world of shady pubs, hefty gambling stakes, and entangled in mafia debts, it seemed nothing would snap either one of them out of the funk.

And as the years passed, the chaotic routine of give, take, and hate became common. Two children and their parents, though tied inexorably, are inevitably left…

Alone.

* * *

****

**_END_**

**_(1) From what I gather from what I've seen in the Yugioh Manga, that Jounouchi seems to have some talent in carpentry. (It was in the chapter where they have a school fair, and Jounouchi had made a pirate game from an old barrel and some stuff. Yuugi complimented him on his skills, which gave me the idea of including this often neglected and overlooked talent he has in this story.)_**


End file.
